


You've got a fast car

by trashyylevi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cafe Owner Holts, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kind of a slow burn, M/M, Newspaper Coran, Piercer!Hunk, but not too slow, nonbinary pidge, tattoo artist shiro, teacher allura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 18:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12732201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashyylevi/pseuds/trashyylevi
Summary: Runaway/Modern AU! 20-year-old Lance never graduated from high school, never got the chance to experience college after being forced into dropping out to take care of his family. It’s 3 am when he meets 21-year-old Keith at a fast food joint, a waiter who presents with a brooding expression and a cynical attitude about the world. With two milkshakes and a bag of ice, the two misfits make the decision to runway to the city and forget everything.





	You've got a fast car

**Author's Note:**

> First full fic! I hope you enjoy! I'll try to update as often as possible!
> 
> Inspiration struck from Fast Car by Tracy Chapman
> 
> All main characters belong to dreamworks, this is simply a work of fiction! <3

“Wouldn’t it be great if we could just take a drive down the freeway, straight out of town, to some city somewhere and just never look back?” Lance looked longingly out of the window of the diner that was lit by fluorescent lights, blaring out to the cars that contained people lucky enough to only be passing through. 

Taking a sip of his chocolate milkshake, Lance glanced back at Keith, who was in the middle of tying up his black, very soft looking mullet. Lance adverted his eyes down into the swirl of chocolate and vanilla ice cream in his glass. “Just forget about this town and forget about anyone who ever told us we’d get nowhere.”

“Well why don’t we?” Keith crossed his arms over the counter before resting his chin on the palm of left hand, his almost violet eyes glanced out the window at the cars going back and forth with their headlights violently breaking through the dark of the night. “I mean I’ve not really got any connections here, nobody to tell me no or anybody to prove anything to. So I don’t really have any reason to stay here anymore.”

“Why do you then?” Lance paused as he threw a side glance to the waiter who looked fairly at peace in the quiet of the diner. “Stay in town I mean, I would leave now if I could but it’d be tricky at the moment with…family commitments I guess you could call it, so why do you stay?”

“Trust me, dude, I wanna leave, I really do, but even with my savings, I’m not even sure I’d be able to afford it and plus I don’t even have a car and train tickets are way too pricey.” Keith let out a sigh as he straightened up behind the counter and stole a fry from Lance’s forgotten plate of food. Lance felt the corner of his mouth twitch as he shook his head, turning back to his milkshake, he paused. Keith raised an eyebrow at Lance as he stared straight at the black haired waiter without faltering. “What? Do I have something on my face or?”

“No, no. Dude, I have a car… and I have about $4,000 in savings, which would be enough for a deposit and a couple of months’ rent…” Lance’s wide eyes searched Keith’s face for any sign of hesitation and yet despite barely knowing the guy; he saw none. “With your savings, my savings combined and my car…”

“We could leave.”

* Six and a half hours earlier * 

“Thank you for shopping with us, hope to see you again soon!” Lance’s lips pulled tight as he smiled at the last customer of the night, it was 22:30 and he had been working at the convenience store since 7 this morning. It was okay as far as jobs go, pay was average, the manager wasn’t a total a-hole and he was able to get the occasional day off. Which would be fantastic, if it wasn’t for the other 3 jobs that he worked during the week. Mondays, Thursdays and Sundays he did the paper rounds in his suburb at 5 am, worked shifts at the store from 7 until 11 Monday through to Fridays, Saturdays he worked the late shifts at his local cocktail bar and on his days off and the rest of Sundays he was part-time at the paper, taking photos and getting paid half of what he should for his work. The varied incomes combined were pretty decent, the 20-year-old always made sure to keep what he could for himself and his savings. After 6 years of working, Lance had saved up a relatively healthy amount, it wasn’t a lot but it was enough to keep him hoping for a bright future. Someday.

As he stood up from his worn plastic and highly uncomfortable stool, he rounded the counter, did a quick lap of the aisles before he deemed it safe to lock the front doors of the store. Lance pulled the shutter down outside the front doors before he ducked underneath to go back into the store and then pulled it down all the way. He locked the front door, made his way to counter and opened the till to take the cash tray out. Lance took it to his manager out back in the staff room with the door keys in hand. “Good job today as always Lance! I know the early starts can’t be easy,”

“Don’t sweat it, sir, I’m used to it by now,” Lance shrugged at his boss before he handed off the money and the keys. His manager clapped him on the shoulder before he turned around and stalked off to the office to start the end of day paperwork; Lance went to his locker and grabbed his bag and hoodie. “Mind if I head off now? I think I’ve missed the last bus so its gonna take me at least 30 minutes to get home,”

“Everything locked up?”

Lance nodded with tired smile.

“Alright, turn the shop lights off before you leave! I’ll lock up the back,” The ageing man gave him a nod and dismissed him with a slight wave of his hand.

“Thanks, sir. See you later.” Lance zipped up his hoodie before he walked out and flicked off the lights in the shop front. Lance made his way down the corridor in between the shop and the staff only area; he managed to wedge open the temperamental fire exit before it slammed shut behind him and he made his way home.

Halfway to his house, down the deserted streets of his barren hometown, the only light was coming from the flickering streetlamps and the shaded moon tucked behind grey clouds. As a gust of wind passed over Lance, cold splatters of water landed on his cheeks; with a slight frown, Lance tilted his tired brown eyes to the sky. It started to rain. With a grumble and a mumbled curse, he pulled his hood up over his head and shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his worn dark blue jumper before he began to walk with more vigour; too exhausted to deal with the prospect of returning home completely drenched. As the rain started to get heavier, Lance gave up all hope and ran down the sidewalk, which forced him to make it to his house quicker. Usually, he loved the rain, the ocean, anything remotely water related, but it’d been awhile since Lance had managed to find the fun in anything. But 4 jobs and a dysfunctional family can do that to you.

Some may say that Lance is depressed, but it’s not a feeling of overwhelming sadness that plagued his life and had caused him to come to a stalemate. It was simply a feeling of deeply routed boredom. Sure as a kid he never really had a reason to be bored, he had his siblings and he went to school. It was 6 years ago that Lance practically grew up overnight and now he just felt stuck; in a harsh cycle that made him feel as though life was mocking him. Taunting him with seemingly far-off dreams and aspirations that seemed just out of touch; every time he got close, they’d float just a little further away from his grasp and the boy was left to fight another day. Lance didn’t mind though. Despite the constant battle against life and boredom, there was a small part of him that refused to just let it go, he knew he was meant for more. He didn’t know why or when things would set in motion. He just knew that they would.

Needless to say, by the time Lance had reached his ever-flaking, brown front door, he was practically soaked to the bone, he fumbled to shove his key in the door Lance slammed the door shut as soon as he was inside and slumped back against it to catch his breath. He wiped his shoes on the rough welcome rug, Lance peered into the dark living room to see that the lights were out in the kitchen as well. As he shuffled his way into the room, he spotted a note was left on the unused dining table.

“ _Gone to the pub, probably end up staying with a friend. Not a lot in the house for dinner so I guess you’ll figure it out like you always do._

 _Oh and the electric bill needs paying by Wednesday or no power – Dad_ ”

Lance stared blankly at the note before he let it fall to the floor, as he pivoted on his heel, he made his way upstairs and flicked the light on in the second room on left; his bedroom.

With a hunched back and rain dripping from his matted brown hair, Lance shrugged off his shoes and threw his bag to the other end of his dorm-like room. The yellow light displayed the cracks in the baby blue paint that had been there since he was a new-born with wide-eyes and an untarnished view of the world. Posters of bands and pictures of his siblings started to slowly peel off the walls where the blu-tac had dried up too much, thin black curtains hung limply from around his windows on which the sills were cluttered with random pieces of Lance's life, a slightly dusty photo frame of his family, a Rubix cube and an old little leagues trophy that he won when he was 9. A small built-in closet to the left of his room still had its door open and his old rickety bed was shoved into the far right corner, with off-white sheets still ruffled from this morning. Lance shoved his dripping hoodie into the half-full laundry bin that was to the right of his door, he put his phone on the messy desk at the end of his bed so that it could charge. Once stripped of all his drenched uniform, he grabbed a towel from the cupboard in the hallway and pushed himself towards their match-box bathroom; turned on the shower to wash out the grime of the store and to chase the cold of the rain away from his skin.

Rinsed, dried and dressed, Lance grabbed a granola bar and an apple from the kitchen before he headed up to his room to hopefully turn in for the night. Whether or not Lance actually managed to fall asleep was another question entirely. Before heading to bed, he grabbed his old, beat up canon camera from the backpack that was crumpled on the floor. Lance’s granddad (his mother’s dad) had given it to him when he turned 16 after Lance had caught him taking pictures of his garden. Lance had then asked a seemingly endless stream of questions, which ended with his granddad giving him lessons on how to use it and Lance receiving a camera for his birthday. Ever since then photography had become a massive part of Lance’s life and was one of the ways he still found wonder in the world.

As he waited for his laptop to fire up, Lance started to flick through the photos he’d taken of the local carnival that had taken place the previous night and decided that after some cleaning up and editing; he’d send them into the paper to be published.

It was 2 am by the time he’d finished editing the photos and had sent an email to the local paper. Scrolling through the lacklustre Facebook timeline on his phone, Lance jolted at a small ping that came from his laptop; a response from the Gazette.

_From:[thegazette@gmail.com](mailto:thegazette@gmail.com)_

_To:[LanceMcclainPhotog@gmail.com](mailto:LanceMcclainPhotog@gmail.com)_

_Dear Mr. McClain,_

_I thank you for the constant commitment to your photography and for your passion and want to provide us with photos for our features, it has been of great value to us and you are forever in our gratitude._

_However, I am regretfully sorry to say that we will no longer be able to fund your photos and we feel that it is not fair for us to use your photos without properly thanking you for them. Therefore, the rest of the team and I feel that it is only fair that we allow you to move on to a paper or a project that will not only be able to pay you for your superior work, but also allow you to get the publicity that you deserve. Again, I am ever so sorry that we are unable to accept your photos at this time._

_Kind Regards,_

_Jeff Nicholton_

Could this day get any better? Lance closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as he felt his fist clench on his desk, usually attempts to slow his breathing calmed him down; but today was not that day. Lance shot to his feet, which caused his chair to tip backwards, his arm almost automatically swiped everything off of the shelf above his desk; hunched forward he tried to catch his breath. Palms flat to the desk, Lance forced himself to breathe, slow and steady. Before he let another wave of anger surge through his body, he snapped his eyes open, grabbed some dry shoes from his closet; pocketed his phone and keys without even checking the time. Lance wrenched the front door open, down the front steps and had stormed part-way down the sidewalk before the door had even slammed shut. With no place in mind and anger and frustration which pulsed through his veins, Lance just walked. The long-legged boy just walked and walked until the lack of food and the exhaustion finally told him enough. 

Lance kept going.

It wasn’t until he realised he had walked as far as the Garrison family diner on the outskirts of town near the start of the freeway that Lance bothered to check the time.

3:15 AM.

With a loud grumble from his stomach and a shiver down his spine, his legs pushed him the last couple yards towards the diner and through the door. As Lance walked through the door, a bell rung above his head and a guy slumped against the counter spoke without looking up from his phone.

“Hi, welcome to Garrison’s family diner, the second best dogs on the east coast. We also serve world class burgers and pie…” The guy sighed through his opening speech and mumbled something incoherent, though Lance suspected that it was a dig directed at the deadbeat diner and its supposed status within the world of hot dogs and burgers. “Milkshakes are on special for the next week at just two dollars fifty…. My name’s Keith and I’ll be your server today.”


End file.
